It’s not often that I actually show up somewhere and read these little stories out loud. After all, in a flash, the reading’s over. Therefore, it seems appropriate that I’ll be reading them as part of “Quiet Lightning,” a new reading series kicking off Monday, December 14, at Cantina in San Francisco. Bring a dollar to donate for candles and postcards. Buy a drink. Hear some stories. Say hello.
Just don’t smile
December 4, 2009“She scares me,” said the little boy peering up at the Richard Avedon photo of Björk. Then he turned and looked around the entire room of portraits. “These people just don’t smile.”
Submission
December 2, 2009The helicopters passed over so often, their sound transformed to a cat’s purr, the hum of a dryer. The people curled up in their homes, rocked to submission by the noise outside.
At a party, she huddled in a corner, trying to explain to a new friend what this all meant. The friend shrugged, then walked away to refill his glass. Next to her, a window rattled, though the wind was perfectly calm. She tried to lock eyes with anyone else in the room, but all gazes remained unfocused. She never expected it to get this bad this soon.
Wound
November 30, 2009She didn’t notice the wound when it happened. It was later, when she caught a glimpse in the mirror of blood running down her arm, that she realized what had happened. She looked at it then, closer, at the depth and width of it. It stung then, a deep sting that started at the base of the gash and grew out from there.
The blood stopped soon, and the wound wept clear fluid, no matter how many bandages she applied. It kept on like that until it stopped. It kept on like that until it healed into a scar.
Weird Pixar-type thing
November 28, 2009“I want to watch this movie sometime, but I can’t remember what it is.” The man at the bar gestured up at the silent television overhead. “It’s weird. About robots.”
“Transformers?” asked the girl, though what was on the screen was animated.
“No,” he said. “It’s some weird Pixar-type thing.”
Interrupted dinner
November 26, 2009The air disappeared then, and the restaurant dimmed. She sparkled until that moment, then faded in the vacuum created by what he had just said.
“It’s not what I meant,” he said. But he had already interrupted dinner, and she felt a bit faint.
Same place twice
November 24, 2009We asked nothing, said little, danced more than we walked. The clock moved so slowly as to roll backward. A tire rolled alongside the road, a frog jumped, the music skipped then started up again.
We felt magic. We were never in that same place twice.
100 Proof 